Clockwork Love
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Sequel to "Dining on Ashes" and my first (and only, so far) attempt at Steampunk. Adam and his wife are happy with one another. An old college friend of Adam's comes back into his life-and finds himself entranced by Adam's wife. He would do anything to have her. Anything.
1. Chapter 1

**All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.**

Part 1

Adam lay on his back and glanced over at his wife. Eloise lay on her stomach, one arm folded underneath her head on the pillow while she languorously stretched out the other round, pale arm and pushed the small lever on the little metal box on the nightstand. She watched as the colorfully-enameled bird perched on top, flapped its clockwork wings and opened and closed its beak. The green-enameled leaves on the brown metal branch on which the little bird sat, moved as if with a breeze.

Eloise tucked her other arm under her chin as well and watched the little mechanism, listening to the whirr and click of its cogs and wheels.

Adam rolled over on his side and supporting his head and with one hand, caressed Eloise's back and exposed neck, marveling at her milky beauty.

"You look like a cat just waiting to pounce on the bird," he said, bending down to kiss her shoulder.

Eloise turned to look at him. "That's you. You're the cat—always waiting for you chance with me."

"A man has to take advantage of his opportunities when they arise." Adam kissed Eloise's back down the gentle curve of her spine until it was hidden by the covers. "So luscious," he murmured.

"I was thinking," Eloise said, "your friend Muncie, well, do you think that he could make something else like my little bird here?"

"You want another toy?" Muncie had made the little, mechanical piece for Eloise and had presented it to her the last time he visited the Ponderosa. And Adam knew that Muncie was in love with his wife and he imagined his friend working late into the might making the odd gift for Eloise and thinking of how happy it would make her. And Adam wondered if Muncie fantasized about Eloise when he was alone in his workshop or settling down for a night's sleep.

"Well, I was just wondering if he could make me a clockwork husband who I could just wind up and he could do all the things that you do—and maybe even better and more."

Adam looked at Eloise's face; her eyes were sparkling with mischief. He gave her buttocks a sharp smack.

"Ow!" She said in mock pain. "Would you be jealous if Muncie made a big, hulking mechanical husband for me who would be tireless and work at whatever task I set for him?"

Adam pulled his wife into his arms, his face buried in her neck as he murmured, "Yes, I would be jealous. I'm jealous of the wind when it blows against you, of these beautiful tresses that lay against your white neck and of the linen sheets that caress the body I love so much." And Adam raised his head to gaze at his wife and with Eloise looking at him, her mouth slightly open, Adam kissed her, and Eloise twined her arms around his neck. And thoughts of anything and anyone else but each other were banished form their minds.

"Muncie!" Adam Cartwright called out as he pushed his way through the halls to catch up with Muncie Hurd, his text books and notebook held under one arm. "Wait up!"

Muncie turned as Adam, a slight grin on his face, caught up to him. "I know what you're going to tell me," Muncie said, "that the exam scores for Boyd's class are posted and no, I haven't seen them; I'm avoiding them." Muncie turned and kept walking while Adam kept pace beside him.

"That wasn't it," Adam asked, "but I did see them. If you need help with the class, just ask me. I could have helped you make a better score."

Muncie glanced over at his friend, Adam Cartwright. Muncie came from a wealthier family than Adam's and Muncie hadn't had to establish himself—his family had lived in Boston for at least three generations and his grandfather had donated enough money to the university to establish the library years ago. But Adam practically glowed with a nimbus of light about him. It seemed that everyone wanted to be Adam's friend; he was clever, intelligent, and athletic and even though his shirt cuffs were beginning to become a bit frayed after four years, his family had enough money to send him across the country to be educated and having come from the western wilderness, there was a certain mystique about Adam. And if Adam hadn't been as good a friend to Muncie as he had and was, Muncie would have envied him, perhaps even hated him. But Adam had such an innate goodness of heart that Muncie loved his friend and could feel no jealousy, envy or the slightest dislike.

"I just don't understand those things—stories, plays and all that. If Boyd would have just asked who is who and what they did, I could do well on that type of test; I remember facts. But then he goes and asks us to write an essay comparing Cordelia and Desdemona! How am I supposed to do that? The only thing I could think of is that they're women and they have disapproving fathers. Oh, and they both die at the end. That's it. And then that second essay, the one on _The Tempes_ t! How am I supposed to compare it to the stratification of modern society? I have no idea what he was talking about, Adam. I know I failed that test miserably. And now I'll have to take the course over, that is if I'm not thrown out first. All I understand is numbers and calculations and engineering." Muncie ducked his head and continued walking. He felt that everyone was looking at him and either feeling superior or feeling pity and he hated both emotions when aimed at him.

"C'mon," Adam said. "It's not the end of the term—there'll be the final exam and I'll help you study. Let's go to the coffeehouse and if you want, I'll explain the essays." Adam put one arm around his friend's shoulders; he stood at least half a foot taller than his quiet friend.

"I'll go for coffee but I don't ever want to think about that exam or Shakespeare again. At least not until I have to" The two young students chuckled.

"Now how are you ever going to seduce a woman if you don't learn some poetry?" Adam asked.

"Adam," Muncie said, "look at me. I could recite the whole of _Romeo and Juliet_ and all I'd do is bore her. I'll never seduce a woman. Not with the way I look. Unless a talk on how to build a bridge to eliminate sway makes her excited, I'll never bed one."

"Ah," Adam said, his brows shooting up, "what if I told you that you don't have to work at seducing a woman? Rosie has a friend who believes the same as she—free love and the abandonment of marriage and social conventions is the only way to go. And she has asked me to find a young man for her friend, someone to escort her places and to keep company with, so to speak, and, Muncie, I thought of you. This is going to be your lucky Friday night."

"Me?" Muncie glanced over at Adam who was widely grinning. "What the hell made you think of me?"

"Well, Rosie said that Sylvia, that's her friend's name, likes the 'unconventional,' and, Muncie, you are unconventional."

"So, Sylvia is one of those free thinkers, huh? Wants the vote and to be able to take jobs from men?"

Adam paused and then answered, "Yes."

"And let me guess; she thinks that the wife should be able to work and the husband should tend to hearth and home and the children."

"Probably—but I also think she secretly may like a man with money and, Muncie, you do have money. Money is attractive to all women—no matter how progressive they claim to be."

"Just the girl for me," Muncie said with a slightly dour grin, and Adam clapped Muncie on the back and both young men laughed loudly as they exited the building, causing others to turn to glance at the odd pair; handsome tall, muscular Adam Cartwright and the small, plain, squat young man who was dwarfed by the other.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

"Muncie," Adam said, knocking, "open the door, would you?" He waited but there was no response. Muncie hadn't been to any classes that Monday and no one had seen him all weekend. The professors had all asked if anyone had since missing a class was inexcusable unless one was in the infirmary with a desperately high fever.

"Muncie." Adam rapped on the door again. "It's me, Adam. Open up or they'll send for your father." Adam paused; he hoped that his bluff would work although it was partially true. If Muncie continued to miss classes, his father would be informed of due cause to expel his son. Adam thought he heard some sound from inside the room. Then a bolt was thrown and the door opened and Muncie stood in front of Adam. Muncie was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing when Adam left him and Sylvia at the park where the four had gone after the coffeehouse and from Adam's perspective, Muncie and Sylvia seemed to be getting along. "What the hell," Adam said in a low voice. "My God, Muncie, you look awful."

Muncie looked up at Adam, bleary-eyed, and then turned and went back into his room. Adam followed, closing the door behind him.

At the coffeehouse Friday night, Adam and Muncie had met Rosie and her friend, Sylvia, both students at the Boston Female Medical School, who were already in a heated debate with three of the Harvard students; Rosie and Sylvie were saying that women could contribute to society as well as men, if not better, especially in the field of medicine. Men had no idea of the ramifications of a woman's sexual issues. Men were snobs, Rosie had insisted, either insisting that all of a woman's problems arose from either their inability to have a "wet response" to intercourse and suffered mentally with "hysteria" or because women desired none and were cold with mental issues. Rosie insisted that the cause of women's issues was men. And Sylvia insisted that men were trying to keep women uneducated and actually making women secondary citizens. Women, Sylvia insisted, should have the freedom to share their body with any man they desired, to take control over their reproduction, and not be viewed with disdain. And into this melee, Adam and Muncie showed up, Muncie, listening with trepidation. He had never heard such topics discussed before and sat back while Adam dove in with his views on such matters, bringing some humor into the conversation that had been so serious. And Muncie noticed how Rosie looked at Adam with such adoration and he decided that one day, he wanted a woman to look at him that way.

"I came by to see you yesterday but since no one answered, I assumed you weren't home—hoped you were with Sylvia. Have you been locked in here like this all weekend?"

Muncie didn't answer, he just sat down on the edge of his bed which was mussed and by the look of his clothes, Muncie had slept in them.

"Do you love Rosie, Adam?" Muncie asked. Adam had taken the wooden chair by the desk on which were drawings of mechanical works. Adam had glanced at them and was amazed at the intricacies of his drawings. In one of their engineering courses, they had studied Leonardo da Vinci's sketches of flying machines and various other contraptions and here on Muncie's desks were sketches of machines that rivaled da Vinci's. And Adam also noticed a sketch of an arm and all the sinews and bones that were within the human arm. For a brief moment, Adam thought of asking Muncie if the sketch was a copy from a book or not. But Muncie wouldn't copy anything; he had too much honor.

"Well, Adam," Muncie said, this time looking up at his friend, "do you love Rosie? Are you going to marry her?"

"No, I'm not in love with Rosie and I'm definitely not going to marry her." Adam had pulled the wooden chair around and sat so that his arms rested on the back and his legs were on either side of the seat. "Why do you ask that?"

"After what you two do together, don't you think you should marry her?"

Adam considered Muncie's state of mind; he knew his friend was tired, close to exhaustion. "Muncie, you don't have to be in love with a girl to have some fun. Besides, I'm not the first one to be with Rosie and I'm sure I won't be the last." Muncie looked at him with an open gaze and Adam felt a flush of guilt. "Look, Rosie doesn't love me either. We just have a good time with each other."

"But shouldn't a person be that way only…you know…so exposed…only with the person they marry? Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?"

Adam sighed and looked away. "Now you sound like my father."

"Then your father told you that about women."

"More or less, he did. He sat me down one evening when I was about sixteen and lectured me on how to 'conduct' myself. I think he was more concerned about Cartwright bastards more than anything else but before I came here, he gave me another talk about women and sex and his expectations for me. But then I met girls like Rosie and the others who don't feel that sex before marriage is that bad. And I have to say that I agree with them. And then there are the town girls who, I suppose, are looking for a husband. But, Muncie, did Sylvia want you to marry her?"

"No. I asked her, Adam. I asked Sylvia to marry me."

"Why?"

"She let me kiss her. She not only let me kiss her but she let me touch her and, Adam, I think she would have lain with me, so I asked her to marry me. It seemed the right thing to do."

"Shit," Adam said. He looked at Muncie as he sat with a hopeless expression on his face. "What did she do?"

"At first, she laughed; she thought I was joking but I wasn't, Adam. I was serious and I told her so. I told her that I would take care of her forever. And then she said I was foolish, provincial, and old-fashioned, that she could take care of herself and left. She just walked away and left me alone in the park so I came home and I have come to realize what a fool I am. I don't belong here, Adam. I want to build, to bring to life all my ideas but I don't belong in here. I don't. I'm going to leave school."

"Muncie, that's just injured ego talking." Adam stood up and swung the chair away. He sat beside Muncie. "Get a good's night sleep, shave and come to class tomorrow. Tell the professors you were ill—they'll understand. We're so close to the end that you can't stop now. Sylvia is just a foolish girl who is over-educated and has read too much and considers herself a rebel for the cause of women. Sometimes, girls like her forget about the pleasures of being a woman and I would think that if she considers it, she'll regret having walked away. Go wash your face, put on a clean shirt and let's go have dinner."

"Is it that easy, Adam? Is it that easy to be you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You had a night with Rosie. You probably did unspeakable things with her and here you are, acting as if nothing of much importance happened. How can you do it and not want to marry her, not want to share your life with her?"

Adam stopped and thought about what Muncie had asked him. "You make me ashamed, Muncie. But things aren't that simple. Rosie and I have an understanding. She's free to be with anyone else and so am I. We both know that and I've been with women other than Rosie—even some of the other girls at the coffeehouse Friday. It doesn't mean that much, which I guess, when I think about it, makes me look bad. Makes all of us look-not sophisticated but shallow." Adam wanted to change the subject; it made him uncomfortable and he didn't feel like doing any soul-searching. "Let's go and get something to eat."

Muncie stood up. "You go eat, Adam. I'll be fine. I suppose that I'm just old-fashioned. You know, it's funny. You said that your father lectured you on celibacy and proper behavior and my father, well, he lectured me on becoming a man of the world, expecting me one day to have a wife and a mistress as he does and how, I'm sure, my grandfather did. It's a perverse 'noblesse oblige,' an expectation when one has so much money that it's sinful. And being a 'Brahmin," at least that's how everyone considers him and he talks a good story about duty and avoiding avarice, the main gist of his lecture was how to avoid scandal."

"C'mon, Muncie. Don't take it so hard. There's a whole world out there and there is a woman waiting just for you but if you stay locked up inside, you'll never meet her. So Sylvia was a bad match. She's only a drop in the ocean."

Muncie gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, just a drop. And what does that make me? You don't understand what it's like to be me, Adam. Don't take offense, but I wish I were you and came from a classless society, not from Boston."

And Adam didn't know how to answer him. "Let's go grab a bite. I have enough left from my allowance this month that I can splurge."

Muncie smiled. "You go ahead, Adam. I didn't sleep last night and I think I'll catch up on it if I'm to pay attention in class tomorrow." And so Adam agreed and the two friends shook hands but Adam had an odd feeling as he left which proved to be intuitive; he never saw Muncie again, finding out after visiting Muncie's parents that he had left for Italy and they had no idea when he would return.

"You know my son well?" his mother had asked Adam as she poured coffee.

"Not as well as I thought I did," Adam had responded as he reached to take the cup and saucer from her.

And it wasn't until ten years later that Adam saw Muncie again when he showed up at the front door of the Ponderosa.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

"It is a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Eloise said as she sat on the buckboard seat beside Adam. "It's not yet that hot." She re-tied her bonnet and looked out over the panorama of the Ponderosa.

"Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines," Adam recited, "and then it'll be time for you and me to take a nude dip in the lake." He glanced over at her and smiled, his brows shooting up lasciviously.

"Only you, Adam, could mix culture and vulgarity—and make it sound attractive." Eloise wrapped her arm through his as he drove the team of horses to Virginia City. "I suppose that's why I love you because there certainly is nothing else to recommend you for my undying passion."

"Well, you just wait," Adam said. "Tonight I'll give you something else."

Eloise laughed delightedly and kissed her husband on his cheek feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips. Adam turned to her and they kissed again and he told Eloise that he loved her. And Eloise was content. She had never imagined being so very happy and because she was, Eloise could never fully enjoy her happiness. Sometimes she would startle awake in the middle of the night after having a horrid dream that she had lost Adam, that he had died or been swept away by some catastrophe. And Eloise's heart would thump and the pain was acutely real. And she would choose to forget the dream and not to remember the associated emotions, just turn and watch Adam's peaceful face as he gently slept. Then Eloise would say a quick prayer for her husband's protection and move closer to him, careful not to wake him.

"I thought the whole point of turning the business over to your Aunt Martha was so that you wouldn't have to be in town," Adam said, snapping the reins on the horses' backs to step them up a bit.

"I still have to protect my investment…and the Cartwright's."

"Wife, wife, wife, don't you mean 'our' investment. You are a Cartwright, remember?"

"I try to forget," Eloise answered and Adam looked at her and grinned; he knew that she didn't mean it and that it was just her way of teasing him. No woman could lie with him and do what she did and not have willingly given herself to him not only in body, but in soul as well. "But then I look at you and I blush to remember that I am your wife." Eloise laid her head against his arm and enjoyed the bright morning. And life was bright as well, Eloise thought.

Adam swung Eloise down from the buckboard in front if the former café. Eloise's aunt had changed the name to "The Lunch Bucket," once Eloise turned control over to her but Eloise still kept her hand in. She and Adam walked into the restaurant that served not only breakfast but lunch as well and the place was busier than when Eloise had kept it a French café but she felt that the place had lost its ambience, its French accent, so to speak, that Eloise had found so comforting. No longer did the sweet, yeasty smell of pain au chocolat or croissants or beignets fill the air but the smell of fried steaks for both breakfast and lunch and the savory odor of huge pots of stew and oceans of coffee to serve the hungry cowboys who came in, wafted out the front door. And while Adam sat and ordered coffee and an early lunch of fried potatoes and bacon from Aunt Martha, Eloise went to the kitchen.

She looked at the onions, potatoes and carrots that were in sacks on the floor and were being sliced by a young boy of about sixteen. He had his sleeves rolled up and was assiduously working. He looked up when Eloise came in.

"Hello, Mrs. Cartwright."

"Hello, Tommy. What's on the menu for lunch today?"

"Same thing as always," he said grinning. "Mrs. Garner just went to get some beef for the lunch stew." Mrs. Garner was the cook that Adam and Aunt Martha had hired; Eloise was upset that she wasn't consulted. Adam explained that it was her aunt who would have to work with the woman and since Eloise wasn't in town and it needed to be done quickly, he and Martha had gone ahead and hired her. Eloise begrudgingly agreed that it was only practical but Adam teased her all day about pouting and that night pulled her into his arms and spoke sweet words of love to her until she softened again.

"I see. Don't the customers ever become tired of stew?" Eloise knew that the restaurant was doing well; when she and Adam had come in that morning, her Aunt Martha could only smile at them as she went from table to crowded table, pouring coffee. When Adam went over the books once a month, there was always a profit—quite a bit of a profit and the money went into three accounts. One account was set up for Eloise's Aunt Martha to take care of her once she stopped working although Martha had said that she had never before felt so alive as when running the restaurant. Another account was the restaurant's business account which was in Eloise Logan Cartwright's name and her name only. And then the third account was the 5% that went to the Ponderosa; Eloise insisted.

"But, Adam," Eloise had said, "I think that you should be on my account as well…in case something happens to me."

"Well, aren't you the pessimistic little thing," he had said, kissing her lightly. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But what if it does?"

Adam realized that not only was Eloise serious, she was also afraid. So he had held her, nuzzling her neck, and assured her that he would always see she was safe and secure but for her peace of mind, he would have her Aunt Martha sign papers so that she would be the beneficiary. "I don't think that your Aunt would kill you for the money but if I were your beneficiary and you made me angry enough…" Adam had meant to make her smile but Eloise had just said that it wasn't funny and he knew that she was remembering Chicago.

"What's offered as dessert today," Eloise asked Tommy, seeing a basket of apples on the wooden chair and more on the floor around it. "Apple pie?"

"Yes, ma'am, I believe so. I know that Mrs. Garner was talking about whipping cream for topping but me, well, I just like a slice of cheese on my pie."

"Well, I'm good with pastry. Why don't I make some apple tarts?" Eloise was just about to reach for an apron when Mrs. Garner, the cook Adam had helped hire, came in the kitchen with a package wrapped in brown butcher paper and tied with string.

Mrs. Garner was a dour woman with a practically lipless mouth and hard eyes. Her dark hair that was greying at the temples was sternly pulled back into a chignon and she rarely smiled. She had given birth to eight children and only four had lived past one year and only one child reached adulthood, a girl, who had married a blacksmith and moved to Carson City. So once her husband died, Mrs. Garner had sold their small farm and moved into Virginia City, hoping to find a job in the hotel. But she had won this job, her recommendation being the massive amounts of food she had made every day for her family.

"Good, Morning, Mrs. Cartwright," Mrs. Garner said without a smile. "Did you come to check out the kitchen? I keep it clean and there's been no complaints about the food to my knowledge." She dropped the heavy package of on the butcher block table with a thump. Tommy stopped the chopping of carrots and watched. Mrs. Garner was a good cook but she was possessive about the kitchen.

"I thought I could help with the dessert. Instead of apple pie, well, I thought of making apple tarts. You know, like little individual pies but with a flaky, sugary crust." Eloise became nervous as silence fell over the kitchen. Mrs. Garner stated at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea. One thing, you might get that fancy dress mussed and another thing is that I can make the apples stretch farther and with a lot less trouble if I make pies. These cowboys, they want filling food, not any fancy French cooking." And Mrs. Garner reached for the apron that Eloise was going to take and slipped it over her head, adjusted the bib of the apron and then tied it at her waist. "Anything else?"

"No," Eloise said. "Nothing else." And she walked out of the kitchen and saw Adam sitting at one of the tables. Muncie Hurd was with him. Eloise walked over and as soon as Muncie saw her, he stood up and pulled out a chair for her.

"How are you, Muncie?" Eloise liked the small, quiet man; he was always kind and attentive and she remembered that he was the first regular patron of the bakery. It was at least a month before he introduced himself and Eloise's Aunt Martha always teased Eloise that he was a suitor. She told Eloise that Mr. Hurd would take a table from which he could see the kitchen and was always waiting for the times when Eloise would bring out a pan of fresh pastry. And he always bought a half dozen croissants to take away with him.

"I'm just fine," Muncie answered.

Eloise noticed that all Muncie had was coffee and bread with jelly. "Why don't you have something more substantial—on the house," Eloise said. Adam had told Eloise that Muncie was from a wealthy family but had eschewed their support and lived off the money he made with his clock repair shop. Muncie not only repaired them but made clocks as well. His shop was lined with an array of delicately carved mantle and wall clocks with elegant chimes. Once Eloise was waiting for her small watch on a gold chain when the hour struck and the shop was filled with the music of all the chimes. And just as Muncie had made the little clockwork bird for Eloise; he made other curiosities, odd music boxes and small toys but it wasn't a lucrative business. Most of the people in Virginia City had no money to waste on things such as that.

"Thank you, Eloise, but this is all I want. I miss the days when I could imagine that I was back in Paris and eating pain au chocolat as the sun rose over the Seine. I always felt that the pastry tasted a bit better since you made it." He and Eloise exchanged smiles.

Adam looked up from his food; he never quite knew how Eloise took Muncie's comments. He also couldn't decide if Muncie was flirting with her or not but Eloise never took his remarks as his making love to her so Adam was never too concerned. Besides, as Muncie had aged, he had become more odd, more squat as if some divine thumb had pushed down on him, disfiguring him in some way. And when Muncie had shown up at the Ponderosa two years ago, Adam was surprised—pleased to see his college friend, but surprised.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

It had been a weary day on the Ponderosa and as the four horses realized that they were indeed returning to the barn, their riders had to hold them back to keep them from galloping at breakneck speed and heading straight through the open doors of the barn.

"We'll get there soon enough, Cooch," Joe said to his pinto that was trying to take the bit in its teeth, "and then dinner for all."

"Pa," Adam said, "think of a number between one and twenty and whoever guesses closest has to bed down the horses and feed 'em."

"Nah," Hoss said, holding the reins close to his chest to keep his horse from galloping away with him, "I always lose."

"That's because you can't count so you're easy to bamboozle," Adam said and he and Joe grinned at one another.

Hoss snorted in disgust. "Think you're so damned smart."

"Well, I've never lost," Adam said. "I guess that makes me smarter than you."

"Doesn't take much for that," Joe said. "Or maybe Pa just thinks that you need more work to take off some of that fat."

"Okay, okay," Ben said. He was thinking about having a hot bath after dinner and soaking his aching back. "I have a number. Guess."

"Nineteen," Hoss said quickly, glowering at his brothers. He had considered calling "twenty" but settled on "nineteen."

"Fourteen," Joe said. "Go ahead, Adam."

Adam sat and thought for minute. "One."

Ben shook his head. "Sorry, Hoss-twenty."

Adam and Joe roared and Hoss just frowned more. "Dang it, Pa. I'm beginnin' to think what they said is true. And I'm hungrier than all of you put together and now I'll be late to table."

"We'll save you some bones to gnaw on," Joe said.

"Don't do me no favors," Hoss grumbled.

The four dismounted and Hop Sing, grinning, came out into the yard from the kitchen. "Mistah Adam, old friend of yours here. Say he know you from school-Mistah Hurd. I tell him stay for dinner."

"Muncie? I don't believe it." Adam handed the reins of his horse to Hoss and went into the house. "Muncie," Adam said, shaking his friend's hand and then clapping him on the shoulder. "I didn't think I'd ever see or hear from you again after you just disappeared!"

"Well, you know the old saying about the bad penny." Muncie smiled broadly in return. He was glad to see Adam but found he was slightly offended at the smell of sweat and horse that came from Adam and Muncie instinctually wiped his hand on his trouser leg. So this was what it smelled like to be a cowboy, Muncie thought. And although he was repulsed by the sweat-stained clothes of Adam's and the fact that he hadn't shaved in what looked like a day or two, at the same time, Muncie was drawn to the overwhelming aura of masculinity that Adam projected; Muncie had always hero-worshipped Adam.

Adam introduced Muncie to his father and Joe and then asked what had brought Muncie out to Nevada. The last he heard was when he had visited Muncie's parents and was told that he had gone to Italy.

"Why don't we all wash up for dinner first," Ben said. "A trip to Italy sounds like perfect dinner conversation."

And Muncie made it a point to wash his hands after shaking all the Cartwright's hands. But Hoss came in late and when Adam introduced Hoss to Muncie and they shook hands, Muncie was at a loss; Hoss hadn't yet washed his hands after taking care of the horses and Adam noticed Muncie staring at his palm, not knowing what to do. Then he watched as Muncie, as covertly as he could, wiped his hand thoroughly with his napkin but Adam also noticed that Muncie picked up his bread with his left hand from then on; Muncie hadn't changed.

Muncie told the Cartwrights about Italy and how he had spent time at the old Roman ruins examining their sophisticated engineering. He had also traveled to France but found the country too "decadent" for his tastes. But Muncie had traveled to Greece as well and loved it. He had roamed the countryside and made sketches and drawings of their ruins as well as their infrastructure. He had wanted to go to China but his father had cut off his funds and demanded that he return to Boston.

"So," Muncie said, "having no money, I returned home. My father wanted me to become involved in the business but I had no interest in making money hand over fist in a business that flourishes on the sweat and blood of immigrants and since you had often said that I was welcome to visit anytime, well, I decided to travel out here and make a living of my own. I mean I still have access to my family's money but I want to make my own living. And I do have to tell you, I found this trip more foreign than my travels in Europe."

"You want to be a cow hand?' Joe asked, the incredulity obvious in his voice.

"Oh, no, no," Muncie said, giving a small chuckle. "I've never taken to horses or they to me. But my hobby has always been clocks. I enjoy the little cogs and wheels and how they are all interconnected. I see it as an analogy to life and nature, how one happening, one movement, influences another, a reverse action can cause a forward action and it's like a symphony playing a masterpiece." Muncie paused and noticed that Hoss and Joe had stopped eating and were staring at him. He blushed deeply.

"Like the music of the spheres," Adam said.

"Yes. Yes, exactly, Adam," Muncie said. "Numerical relations, one cog in proportion to another and the speeds and direction in which they rotate—it all makes a harmony, a music. You always understood, Adam. No one else ever did—they laughed."

"Well," Ben said, smiling, trying to lighten the mood, "did you have a good trip?" He wanted Muncie to be at ease at his table.

"Not particularly," Muncie said. "The train wasn't too bad. At least it didn't smell as much as the coach, or should I say, the people on the coach."

Adam laughed. "Well, they do make for close quarters and you can't choose your traveling companions."

"No, nor can you have any the comforts of home. One of the worst inconveniences was taking care of hygienic matters. Actually, Adam," Muncie said, obvious excitement in his voice, "while traveling, I noticed that one of the biggest problems in modern society which they took care of so neatly in ancient Greece and Rome is how to dispose of human effluence. Now they had an interconnection of pipes which can't be done out here where homes are so far apart but I have an idea about how to diffuse…"

Adam cleared his throat and Hoss spoke up. "What's that effluence stuff?"

"Human waste," Adam said uncomfortably and Joe made a sick face and put down his fork.

"You mean like what I do in the outhouse?" Hoss asked.

"Yeah," Joe said, "but hopefully, not as bad as what you do-there has to be another name for that. Well, this conversation put me off my feed."

"I'm sorry," Muncie said, obviously uncomfortable with his faux pas. "I know that's not polite dinner conversation. I apologize again; I become a little carried away."

Adam smiled. "Don't worry about it, Muncie. I'd really like to hear your idea later. You are staying, aren't you?"

Muncie looked around the table. "If you'll allow it, Mr. Cartwright. I'd like to establish a shop in Virginia City—I was quite impressed with the city. I mean it's not Paris or Rome but it's actually very quaint."

"Of course, you're more than welcome to stay as long as you want," Ben said, smiling. But as Hoss said later, Muncie Hurd was a strange, little man; Adam knew the oddest people.

And when Adam showed Muncie to the guest room, he sat while Muncie took his clothing and shaving kit from his portmanteau and they discussed Muncie's idea of using the flush toilet and pipes as a means of conveyance to a large tank and by attaching perforated clay pipes in a bed of gravel, human waste could be conveniently and expeditiously made harmless. "And think of all the disease that could be eliminated through more hygienic means of waste disposal. It may even wipe out cholera completely!" Muncie's excitement was obvious.

"I think you have something there," Adam said. "Do you mind if I make some sketches? We can try it out here on the Ponderosa. No more lime having to be dumped down the outhouse and putting up with the smell. A U shaped pipe and all the waste being conveniently sent to a…what did you call it?"

"The drain field. And, no, I don't mind at all, Adam, if you make sketches. I'd be honored to try my idea out here. And you know how party streamers are made out of that thin paper?" Adam nodded. "Well, instead of using corn husks or old catalogues for wiping, that type of paper, I mean not that long, of course, but of that type, would be perfect; it would fall apart later in the tank."

"Why not that long?" Adam asked. "It could be in a roll. You unroll what you want and then tear it and use it."

Muncie's face lit up. "That's a great idea, Adam."

"I don't think it's that great. But we can call it shit paper." The two men laughed and then Muncie turned serious.

"Adam, I know that you had many friends at university, that I wasn't your only friend, but, Adam, you were my only friend and I never thanked you. I just left without saying goodbye."

"You don't have to thank me. But why did you leave?" Adam asked. "We were so close to the end."

"You were, Adam, but I wasn't. There are so many things I'll never learn, never understand and I realized it that weekend. So I left."

Adam stood up. "I don't quite understand but I'm glad you're here."

"And, Adam," Muncie said, "maybe, just maybe one day, well, I'll find a woman to marry." Muncie ducked his head in embarrassment.

"I can introduce you to a few in town who you may not want to marry but are a while lot of fun to know." Muncie blushed and Adam grinned. "Sleep well and let Hop Sing know if you need anything. We'll go to town tomorrow after breakfast." And Adam left, leaving Muncie standing in the middle of the room.

Muncie looked around and then sighed. He had decided to make a new life for himself but wasn't sure anymore if he had the courage to do so. But here he could work on his creations and perhaps succeed in secret, away from the intrusiveness of his parents and Boston society where he was seen as that funny son of Frank Hurd-all that money and the son being such a disappointment, such an awful disappointment.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

So Muncie established himself in Virginia City by opening his shop. He made a meager living but soon branched out into making music boxes and clockwork toys for children such as a soldier who played a drum, his tin arms moving up and down with the drumsticks and a woman who, while seated, lifted a teacup to her lips and then placed it back down on the saucer in her other hand. The children would stop by the shop and look in the window and Muncie would wind up all the toys and music boxes and the children would smile as they watched the motion and listened to the cacophonous music from all the boxes accompanied by the whirring and clicking of mechanical parts. Muncie knew that it would be nice if he sold one of his creations this way, with the child running home and begging his parents for one of the little creations, but Muncie really only made them for enjoyment-his and others'.

Muncie was happy with his life; he didn't have to deal with his father but still enjoyed the stipend that he received each month and would do so for all his days—as long as his family business remained solvent. But Muncie didn't worry about that. And each evening, Muncie would make himself a small dinner and eat by himself while he tinkered on a new creation.

Adam would stop by Muncie's shop every so often when he was in town and try to talk Muncie into getting out more, to go to church and dances and even to visit the brothel on occasion but Muncie wasn't interested. He told Adam that he had lost his old religion and had adopted the belief of Deism and that he tended to believe that God was a "clockmaker" who set things going and then stepped away with disinterest; man's destiny was his own and only his reason, his intelligence, could save him.

"Oh, is that how you feel toward your little 'creations," toward the universe of these little mechanical creatures? It seems to me that you care for them. You keep winding them to give them life." Adam sat across from Muncie in his kitchen as they ate cheese and bread with a glass of wine.

"So you're saying that if I feel this way about metal creations, things made of tin and copper, then how could God remove himself from the lives of his flesh and blood creations? Is that it, Adam?"

"Basically, yes."

Muncie looked around. "Maybe you're right, Adam. Maybe I do still hold some residual belief in a compassionate God." Muncie smiled and raised his glass. "To our destinies, Adam. May we both have some control over them." And Muncie and Adam drank to their futures.

Usually Muncie just ate a boiled egg with coffee and a slice of bread for breakfast, but one morning Muncie desired ham and fried eggs. The sun was just coming up and almost as if he was emerging from darkness, Muncie saw a little café that had seemed to have sprung up overnight, and realized that he hadn't been out lately, that he had been spending too much time in his shop. He had an idea about a steam-powered coach that ran like a locomotive but that required no track. He and Adam had discussed it when he had been to dinner at the Ponderosa last week and he had explained his idea to Ben, saying how all that was required was a small boiler, water and fuel. And of course, a steering device—a wheel.

"You mean that this 'coach' can go as fast as a train?" Hoss asked. He had come to like listening to Muncie and his ideas, especially the one about the automaton which may one day replace servants. And Hoss had teased Hop Sing and said that if Muncie could make him one one of those 'auto-men' who could cook as well as well as Hop Sing but wouldn't always threaten to go back to China, well, Hoss said, Hop Sing's days at the Ponderosa were numbered. And Hop Sing answered with drawn brows and curses in Chinese and then saying that he would quit if a mechanical man walked around the Ponderosa. "Bad magic. Very bad magic!"

And so that one morning a year earlier, Muncie's life changed. He walked into the café, drawn by the sweet smells and the fact that it was almost empty; he could enjoy his food in privacy and not have to hear cowboys cursing and complaining about their aches and pains and stinking like a uncured cow hide.

Every morning Muncie had breakfast at the small café. But one cold morning as he sipped his coffee waiting for the tray of hot beignets to be brought out, Muncie looked around and he saw Eloise. And to him, she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.

As Muncie sat, stunned, his mind went back to the porcelain statue of Venus he had seen in a Parisian home where he had visited; being his father's son on a tour of Europe had garnered the invitation. Muncie had admired the statue, how Venus had her arms upraised and the delicate waves lapped around her feet, but other than that, Venus wore nothing, her pink and white naked beauty being on display as if she was proud to be seen. And Muncie imagined that Eloise would look like that if her clothing suddenly dropped away and for the first time in years, Muncie felt desire. And because the woman worked as a baker in a small café, Muncie saw her as within his reach; he could offer her so much if she would accept it.

Muncie gathered his courage and spoke out, his voice being the only other one except for the older woman who had told him to call her Martha, and the younger woman.

"I want to compliment you on your baking," Muncie had said. The woman looked at him, surprised someone had spoken to her.

"This is the young man I was telling you about," Martha said. "He comes in every morning for coffee and either beignets or pain au chocolat. And he always takes away some croissants. He's our best customer."

And then Eloise smiled at him and wiping her hands on her apron, she went around the counter and walked toward him. Muncie stood up, barely able to support himself; he felt that she floated as if she was some vision but when she proffered her small hand, Muncie, his heart pounding, took it in his and bent over and tenderly kissed it.

"My goodness," Eloise said, "I didn't expect that from someone in Virginia City. Continental gentlemen are rare around here but I'm afraid that my hand will taste sweeter than I really am; I have powdered sugar all over me." And Muncie and Eloise smiled and he chuckled and Muncie was in love with her.

Muncie found that Eloise Logan owned the shop, that Martha was her aunt and basically worked for her but any more about Eloise herself, Muncie didn't know; he hadn't yet had the courage to ask her if he could visit, court her, since he never really had a chance to talk privately to her. One late afternoon, Muncie went to the bakery; he had in his pocket a little clock he had made for Eloise to use when baking. He had brought it with him to breakfast that morning but had lost his nerve. He forced himself to go inside but no one was in the front. He called out and Eloise emerged from the back and she smiled. Muncie's courage returned.

"What are you doing here so late? I was just about to lock the front door."

"I have a little gift for you." Muncie pulled the small clock from his pocket and held it out to Eloise. "It's to time your pastries."

"To do what?" Eloise said, taking the clock from him. She looked at it and it fit in one hand. "I really can't accept it."

"Now you must," Muncie said. "Look at it; I made it just for you." Eloise looked again and she noticed that it was odd—it had a lever that was sticking out the side and was bent over the face which had no hands. "See. You move this lever to count off how many minutes you want to leave something in the oven. The lever runs counter-clockwise and when it hits the top again, it will chime and let you know that the proper time has passed. Remember those burned croissants last week" Eloise nodded. "Well, no more. Just use the timer."

Eloise's face lit up. "What a good idea but I really can't accept it. I'll pay you for it though because I think that it's clever and I can use it but I can't accept it as a gift."

"I'll barter. You accept the clock and I'll accept a dozen free pain au chocolats tomorrow. Is it a business deal?" And Eloise, smiling, put out her hand and accepted the clock and the next day, Muncie had a baker's dozen of pastries to take home.

One morning, Adam saw Muncie through the bakery window and came in and had coffee. And while there, Eloise came out to talk to her aunt and Adam turned in his chair to watch her, grinning.

"Now that," Adam had said, not looking at Muncie, "is a pretty woman. Can't believe that I didn't know that she was here. I'll have to have breakfast in this place all the time when I'm in town. Maybe even lunch."

For the first time ever in their friendship, Muncie resented Adam and wanted him gone. He feared that he had lost any chance of having Eloise to himself. But when Eloise didn't return Adam's smile, just turned up her chin and went back to the kitchen, Muncie felt better. And although Adam tried many times to strike up a relationship with Mrs. Logan, which is how she had introduced herself to Adam when he insisted on knowing her name, Eloise didn't seem to take to Adam so Muncie relaxed a bit. And Muncie noticed that Adam seemed to lose his confidence and stammered a bit when trying to strike up a conversation with her, holding his hat in his hand and shifting his stance. Muncie felt that Eloise did seem to prefer him to Adam so his jealousy eased up and he could still like his friend.

Muncie soon noticed that he hadn't seen Eloise for a few days and her aunt said that Eloise had gone to Chicago to clear up some financial matters but should be back soon. And Muncie was so anxious about Eloise perhaps not returning that he gave no thought to the absence of Adam—he just assumed that with Eloise gone, Adam had no draw to Virginia City.

Muncie was therefore stunned when Adam and Eloise returned from Chicago married and even more so when Eloise seemed to have a true affection for Adam. Muncie could understand Eloise marrying Adam due to his great wealth but she seemed to be in love with him; Muncie could sense it. And he also knew that she and Adam must have lain together as husband and wife and Muncie felt such jealous rage; he could picture Adam holding his Venus in his arms and touching and kissing the pink and white beauty of her skin. Muncie cursed his fate and talked himself into accepting what couldn't be changed. But he grieved over the loss of Eloise, especially when Adam kept her to himself at the Ponderosa and the small café which was the place where he had fallen in love for the only time in his life, changed. Muncie's whole life had changed and he knew that it would never be the same. And he didn't like it. And it seemed to Muncie's reasonable mind when he examined cause and effect that Adam was to blame.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Eloise sat against the headboard playing the music box that Muncie had brought with him to dinner and presented to Eloise. The wooden lid displayed a carved water lily and when the lid was raised, a tune of a distinctive oriental bent played and a brightly enameled Chinese dragon was raised up and moved sinuously in a repeated S-curve, it many scales shimmering. Eloise was immediately enchanted. Hop Sing had admired the box and said that a dragon was a powerful sign, fit for emperors. Muncie was pleased and he smiled shyly at the praise.

Adam watched Eloise as she waited for him in bed, her head bent over as she watched the dragon move, a gentle smile on her face. Adam pulled off his boots and clothes and slid under the sheets, moving next to Eloise, pushing back her hair and kissing her neck. Eloise pulled away a bit.

"Adam, do you think Muncie is lonely?" She turned to look at him but he just pulled her closer and continued to nuzzle her. "Adam, do you?'

"I don't care if he is," he murmured. "It's not my problem to solve." He put out a hand and closed the lid of the music box.

"Adam, listen. I have an idea."

"I have an idea too," he said, "and I think you'll like mine much better if I know you. Now why don't we get rid of all this…" Adam took the box out of her hands and reached across her to put it on the nightstand. "And," he said, reaching for the tied strings at the neck of her gown, "why don't we get rid of this as well."

"Please, Adam, listen to me."

Adam sighed and sat back against the headboard, resigned. "Okay, talk."

"I think Muncie is lonely and I was thinking of introducing him to Sandra Ells. She's quiet and intelligent and pretty in a certain way. I think they'd like each other. What do you think?"

"I think you should mind your own business."

"But, Adam, he's been such a good friend. And he has such good ideas about how to make things better. What about that waste system you told me about? It would make life so much easier—at least for me. Living out here in the wilderness with only men is, well, embarrassing sometimes. If we only had that system and a water closet in the house instead of these stinking chamber pots and the outhouse…"

"Pa's afraid of contaminating the groundwater, but I'll try to talk to him. Now…" Adam reached for her again.

"But, Adam," Eloise braced her arms against his chest. "What about introducing Muncie to Sandra Ells?"

"What about it?" Adam was becoming impatient; he had patiently waited all evening to get his wife alone and in their bed and now she wanted to discuss issues of the heart—someone else's.

"Well," Eloise said, snuggling up next to Adam, "I thought that Muncie might be happier if he fell in love."

"He's already in love—with you."

Eloise sat up again and looked at Adam. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Muncie's in love with you. Can't you tell? You said that he's been making those little sketches of you whenever you go visit The Lunch Bucket. Why is he doing that? The same reason I do. Every curve of your face and body cries for memorial and if he's like me, drawing you is like making love to you—or at least foreplay." Adam grinned and Eloise flushed.

"But he draws me with my clothes on," she said.

Adam chuckled. "Well, his loss. Besides, he probably uses his imagination and erases the clothes later." He pulled her to him but she still wouldn't yield.

"I think you're just being mean."

Adam released Eloise and looked at her seriously now; his frustration obvious. "He's always giving you little gifts and the way he looks at you, well, haven't you noticed how he looks at you? Just like I look at you, as if he wants to throw you on your back and toss up your skirts."

"No," Eloise said quietly, "he doesn't look at me that way at all." But she knew it was true. She had caught Muncie looking at her oddly lately and it had made her uncomfortable. "Do you want me to give back the music box?"

"No," Adam said, pulling her into his arms. "I just don't want to talk about Muncie anymore. I don't want to talk about anything anymore except us. I want you to focus on me and how much I love you and what I'm going to do to you." And Adam pulled her down onto the bed with him and soon, any thought of Muncie and the music box was gone from her mind. But after Adam was asleep and softly breathing next to her, Eloise thought again about Muncie and what an odd man he was. And in a manner, she was flattered that he was in love with her and that perhaps, Adam might be a bit jealous; that might have accounted for the his passion and her pleasure earlier and Eloise hugged herself and smiled to remember.

"Come on in, Adam," Muncie said. "I want to show you my prototype for the steam plow and locomotive." Muncie and Adam had made arrangements at dinner the night before for Adam to come look at Muncie's new creation. He had built a small "field locomotive" that could be used to plow land. Instead of a horse or mule pulling a plowshare and a man having to guide it, Muncie had designed a machine that a man could ride and it would pull a plow-like attachment and turn over the land for planting. He had shown the drawings to Adam and Adam had made a suggestion about the front wheels being smaller and having a shorter axle; it would ease maneuvering and therefore, the field locomotive wouldn't take hay wagon swings—it could more easily make small tight turns. Muncie had mused over the drawings and agreed with Adam. And this was the prototype he had built on a small scale. He hadn't yet made the attached plowshare, he had told Adam—he needed to work out the kinks. After all, it was a steam boiler and required water and fuel so both would have to readily available.

Adam grinned as the miniature field locomotive rolled across the floor. Muncie turned the guiding wheel for Adam to show how the field locomotive could be turned. "It's like a ship's wheel only instead of being vertical, it's almost horizontal because a sitting man can handle it better that way."

Adam kneeled down beside it and examined it closer. "You need to patent this, Muncie. You could make a lot more money from your inventions like this than you do making music boxes and clockwork toys."

"I plan to," Muncie said. "Here. Let's have a toast to my new career as an inventor for the little man, a creator to make the common man's life easier." Muncie poured them each a glass of wine giving Adam the red wine he preferred while Muncie drank white, Adam emptying his glass in three swigs.

"Did Eloise really like the dragon box?" Muncie asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

"Yes, of course," Adam said. He noticed that Muncie had broken out in a sweat and seemed nervous. "What is it, Muncie?"

"I want to show you something. Come in here." Muncie led the way and Adam followed into the furthest back room of the shop—more like a closet really, and it was paneled in a thick, padded fabric. In the very back was a tall shape with a sheet draped over it. "I've been working on this for months, Adam, tried again and again to get the likeness and worked on the automation but she still doesn't move as smoothly as I would like."

"She?" Adam asked. Muncie had an odd look and was excited, his breath coming quickly. "What do you mean, she? What is it?" Muncie pulled off the sheet with one quick movement and Adam stood in awe. "What the hell?"

A metallic person, a female shape stood before Adam. It came up to his shoulders and the face was oddly familiar. Adam stared and then he knew why. "Eloise," he whispered.

"Oh, good," Muncie said. "I'm glad that you recognized her. I worked over and over on the mold. It wasn't easy and I made sketch after sketch of Eloise but I had trouble with the dimensions—I had to guess as to proportion and the breasts, well, I estimated their size and her hips… tell me if the body looks like hers, the legs. I imagine that Eloise has fine legs and plump thighs and that slight roundness above her…well, her…."

Adam ran his hand over the cold metal that looked so much like his wife. It was as if Muncie had turned Eloise to copper the way Midas turned all he touched to gold. "Yes, Adam said. "This looks like Eloise, her hips…" and as Adam said that, he ran his hands over the metallic hips. So many times he had clasped Eloise by her hips and pulled her to him. He noticed that the elbows, knees, thighs, shoulders and neck were jointed. "Can it…can she move?"

"Yes," Muncie said excitedly. "I based her animation on the plans of da Vinci for an automaton. I found his sketches when I was in Italy and painstakingly copied them. She can move her arms, twist her head, walk and sit up. It's done with pneumatics but it needs refining. I was working on chimes for a voice, you know, to say my name—or even hello, anything." Muncie reached out and touched the smooth cheek of the cold automaton. "But I needed to make her warmer, surface the copper with smooth, pale leather and make her, well, make her more…womanlike. And as Pygmalion used Venus as his model for the most beautiful, ideal woman, well, I used Eloise. She is my Galatea."

Adam felt a chill run through him. Muncie was staring at the metallic woman, his creation, with adoration. And Adam looked again at the copper woman. It's similarity to Eloise was amazing and Adam wouldn't have been shocked to hear it speak but at the same time, it seemed alien and Hop Sing's pagan superstitions came back to haunt him. "Bad Magic." Adam had a sudden urge to destroy it before it took over Eloise's very existence.

"I hope you don't mind, Adam. I mean, that I used Eloise as the model. I was going to show it to her but I'm afraid that she'd be spooked."

"Yes, she probably would and to tell you the truth, Muncie, it makes me feel a little strange too. I mean to see Eloise in metal…With all the time and money that you spent on this automaton, well, you could have wooed and won an actual flesh and blood woman."

"But not Eloise. But I will." Muncie looked at his watch and then glanced up at Adam who was so much taller than he. "You've been my best friend, my only friend, Adam, and I treasure you and your family. But I love Eloise. And right about now, if my measurements and calculations are accurate, and I think they are, you should be feeling a bit of numbness in your extremities. Are you? Don't bother to speak, Adam." Adam's legs suddenly gave out on him and Muncie grabbed him and then, with much effort, lowered Adam gently to the floor and as Muncie lay him on the ground, Muncie slipped Adam's gun out of its holster. "You're not dying, Adam, at least not yet. I couldn't do that to you. I'm going to leave you in here. The numbness will wear off and there's plenty of water and food for a few days—or for as long as you care to go on living. I couldn't make myself kill you outright, Adam, even with as much as I want Eloise, but what you choose to do, well, that's up to you. You are a reasonable man. And there's a lamp with more fuel in the corner. You have my Eloise to keep you company. And I'll have yours."

Muncie stood up and Adam strained every muscle trying to move. But he couldn't even talk and he was afraid that his lung muscles would also stop working. Panic ran through him. He had to get up or be locked in the closet with the sound-proof walls. It dawned on Adam why Muncie had padded them; he had, as usual, planned out everything to the last detail.

"I'll be good to Eloise, Adam. I can promise you that. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry." Muncie kneeled again and lightly stroked Adam's hair and sighed. "I don't blame Eloise for loving you, Adam. You are a beautiful man. The Greeks valued male beauty over female beauty for the perfection that it truly is. They appreciated it. It's a shame that society doesn't approve of such views anymore." And then Muncie stood up and taking with him the lamp he had brought, he walked out, closing the door behind him and Adam heard a bolt slide into place. And then another. And Adam felt hopeless. And he thought of Eloise and the pain of never seeing her or his family again was so acute that he wanted to cry out—but he couldn't. And the clockwork Eloise stood guard over him, her eyes unfocused and cold.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

It was the possibility of dying in perpetual darkness that upset panicked Adam the most and he couldn't move to relieve it—his eyes stared into nothing. He talked to himself to control his fear. But eventually Adam was able to move his fingers and then the numbness and paralysis quickly washed away. Adam. On his hands and knees, felt around the room until he found the lamp. He had a few matches in his pocket and striking one into flame, he lit the lamp, turning the wick low. There was also a box of matches on the floor so Adam slipped a few matches more in his shirt pocket. He suddenly, as fear gripped him again, worried about using too much good air so, turned the lamp off completely. After a few seconds in the blackness, he felt the fear and panic rise in his chest again and then he saw a mere sliver of light where the eaves were joined on the outside of the building. The knowledge that air could get in soothed his panic and he found that he could think again. He raised the wick, lit it and looked around his prison.

Adam calculated that about two hours had gone by and he could hear no sounds from the outside. The back of the building faced an alley where no one traveled and even with his ear pressed against the padded door, he could hear nothing in Muncie's living quarters. Adam examined the padding to see if he could remove it but it was leather and Muncie had used tacks that were flush so that nothing could be used to pry them out. Muncie had even turned the door around so that the hinges were on the outside. And then Adam saw it, the only flaw in Muncie's plan. A small, open, leather case of fine tools used to repair clocks and create mechanical toys was lying on the floor near one delicate copper foot of the automaton; Muncie must have used them when he was working on the automaton and forgotten about it.

Adam picked up the leather case and smiled. "Well, Eloise," he said to the expressionless copper woman, "Let's see if I can get you up and running. I know a thing or two about pneumatics and you may just be my savior." Again, he was amazed at the likeness; Muncie was quite the artist.

When Adam wasn't home by dinner, Eloise was already too upset to eat. She sat at the table and just moved the food around nervously. "He should be home by now, don't you think?"

"He's probably having dinner in town," Ben said. "I'm sure Adam'll be home soon. Now eat a little something."

But when Adam wasn't home by eight in the evening, Eloise was sick with worry. "Please, we need to go look for him," she pleaded. "If you won't, I will." Eloise was close to tears. All her fears about Adam being harmed came rushing upon at one time and she wanted to run screaming from the house.

"Maybe Adam's stayin' in town overnight," Hoss said but he knew it wasn't true and so did Joe and Ben. Before Eloise perhaps, Adam might have spent the night out, but not now, not now that he a woman for his bed. So Ben said that if it would help ease her mind, Hoss and Joe would go to Virginia City, each taking a different route to see if Adam had run into trouble. And Eloise thanked them again as they rode off. Ben tried to remain calm for Eloise's sake. She tried to knit while Ben smoked and read, but she was constantly stopping at every sound, hoping it was Adam or Hoss or Joe with good news. At midnight, Joe returned; Hoss had stayed in town to keep searching and to talk to Sheriff Coffee. Adam wasn't on the road which Joe had taken out nor was he overland and Joe had even taken a third route returning, the most difficult, but no sign of Adam.

Ay the news, Eloise collapsed in the chair, sobbing. Ben tried to comfort her, telling her that Adam was a grown man and was used to taking care of himself. But Eloise couldn't be calmed and Hop Sing, who had worried as well along with Ben and Eloise by keeping busy in the kitchen making pies, brewed some herbal tea for Eloise and along with Ben's knowledge and approval, stirred in a dose of laudanum. Shortly after sipping it, Eloise was asleep and Ben carried her up the bedroom that she and Adam shared. The he went to his room to worry alone.

Eloise woke with the sun in her eyes. She sat up confused. It was almost midmorning and she was still wearing her clothes from the day before and then she remembered and her stomach knotted; Adam hadn't come home. But maybe he was here now, she thought, so she ran barefooted down the stairs and all was quiet except for sounds from the kitchen. Eloise went in and Hop Sing was cutting and slicing vegetables.

"Did Adam come home?" Eloise asked hopefully.

"No, Mistah Adam not come home. Leetle Joe and Mistah Ben go to look for him. They will find him and he be okay—Hop Sing sure. Missy Eloise eat. Hop Sing fix food."

"No," Eloise said. "I'm not hungry—if I tried to eat, I'd throw up. Thank you anyway, Hop Sing." Eloise left the kitchen and went back upstairs. Her hands shaking, she changed into riding clothes. She decided to ride to Virginia City and help look for Adam; she couldn't just stay here and wait.. As she was buttoning her blouse, she heard the front door open and men's voices. Eloise hurried down, her boots clattering on the steps and Hop Sing was just about to ascend the stairs when she stopped on the landing and stared.

"Oh, Muncie," she said, bursting into tears. "Adam didn't' come home last night; he's missing!"

Eloise talked Muncie into taking her to town and she finally had a seed of hope. Muncie told her that Adam had stopped by his shop and they had run his steam plow; Adam seemed to think highly of it but then Adam left. Muncie said that he would help Eloise look for Adam. Perhaps, and Muncie cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly as they rode in his carriage, Adam was with another woman. And then he clarified his statement.

"I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, Eloise, but Adam had told me a few days ago that he had met someone, a woman who was in town for a few days. She had come in on a stage and he…I told him that he was a fool to even consider leaving with her. With you as his wife, I couldn't understand how Adam could ever want another woman. But I'm sure that's not it, Eloise. You would know if he had packed a bag or anything."

Eloise sat on the carriage seat, stunned. "I don't believe it. I can't." She clutched at her throat; she couldn't breathe. "He wouldn't leave me—not like that. He'd tell me."

"I imagine," Muncie said, "that you'd rather he were dead than run off with another woman."

Eloise turned to face Muncie. "What? No. No, I'd rather Adam were happy but as for myself…my life wouldn't be worth living. I don't know why I lose everyone…my parents, my first husband, my child…and now…" And Eloise burst into tears, hiding her face in her gloved hands.

Muncie put his arm around Eloise and she laid her head on his shoulder as she wept. And Muncie knew that he should be pleased since his plan was working but yet, he wasn't. Adam was probably still alive and suffering. But then, Muncie thought, he himself had suffered every time Adam touched Eloise and the thought of the two of them together, Adam kissing her, making love to her, had practically driven him mad. And Adam had taken Eloise away from him, run away with her and married her in Chicago. And Muncie hardened his heart. Adam had always had everything and now Muncie deserved something, some happiness.

When Muncie and Eloise arrived in town, Eloise immediately went to The Lunch Bucket. Eloise walked in, not even waiting for Muncie to hold the door and when her Aunt Martha saw her, despite the customers, Martha put down the coffee pot and with her arms outstretched, went to Eloise who fell into her aunt's warm embrace.

"Let's go upstairs to the apartment," Martha Handley said. "I'll make you some tea." Eloise allowed herself to be led through the kitchen, past the stares of Mrs. Garner, and up the narrow stairs to the small rooms above the shop. Muncie stood in the restaurant, not knowing what to do since Eloise hadn't even given him a backward look. So he sat and the waitress, a young girl who Muncie didn't know, asked him if he wanted coffee and when he nodded, she righted the upturned cup on its saucer and poured him a cup. Muncie decided that he would wait and then try to work Eloise back to his place.

"All the Cartwrights have been in here at one time or another but I didn't see Adam. Eloise," she said sitting down by her niece, "I'm sure that Adam will be fine. Maybe he's drunk and is sleeping it off. Or maybe…"

"Muncie said that Adam had met a woman, a woman who was just passing through and was here for only a few days. He thinks that Adam may have left with her." Eloise stared at her aunt, waiting for her response.

"I don't believe it, not with the way Adam loved you." She rose to put on the teapot. "They haven't found a body so…" Suddenly she realized what she had said. "I'm sorry, Eloise. I didn't mean…"

"You aren't saying anything that I haven't already considered. But I know that Adam is still with us—I would feel it otherwise, wouldn't I? Wouldn't I?"

"Eloise." Her aunt sat down again and held her gloved hands. "I know nothing about love, about the bond between husband and wife but I have to think—and maybe it's just the romantic in me—but I have to think that when a man and woman share such intimate times that there has to be a greater connection than just flesh on flesh. There has to be a different type of knowledge that a husband and wife share other than just carnal knowledge. Now just settle down. I have the stove hot so the tea will be ready quickly. Now take a few deep breaths. All that's can be done is being done. Why, even the sheriff is going around talking to people and I'm sure they've talked to the depot master as well. Muncie did tell them about what Adam supposedly said, didn't he?"

"I don't know," Eloise said thoughtfully. And then the teapot shrieked and Eloise jumped at the noise. Steam. The steam plow. Adam wouldn't go look at an invention on the morning he was going to run away with another woman. Not Adam; he would be in the woman's hotel room rolling on the sheets with her. Muncie had something to do with Adam's disappearance; Eloise just knew.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Adam took a panel off the back of the metallic woman. He had already eaten a bit of the bread that Muncie had left for him and some of the water but then he realized that he had made a mistake; he had to relieve himself in the corner. "Even animals distance themselves from their waste; too bad you can't, boy." And Adam tried the best he could to ignore the smell and went back over to the automaton.

"So, Muncie said that you moved by pneumatics." Adam found himself talking to "Eloise," carrying on a conversation with her. "You know, Eloise, a lonely man could easily lose his mind and find you as a comfort and relief—I'm close to it myself. If only you had softer cheeks and breasts—and had the other parts of a woman, well…a man could pleasantly pass the time, but back to your inner works." Adam had attended a convention in San Francisco a few years ago where the concept of using pneumatic drilling in mining was discussed and illustrated along with hydraulics and the pros and cons of both. There was also a discussion of strip-mining and Adam listened, becoming angrier and angrier at greed ruling over all other concerns. Nevertheless, the conference had reinforced the basics of pneumatics that he had learned in his engineering classes in his university days.

Adam examined the air compressor that was inside the machine by following the tubes that would force the compressed air through the many limbs and parts that could be animated. "I hope that you don't mind my being so intimate, Eloise, slipping my hand up you like this." Adam pulled out his hand and pressed one of the small levers on the automaton's back and with a slight "whoosh," Eloise smoothly turned her head, first to one side and then the other; another lever moved the head up and down. Adam noticed that Eloise did not have a jaw, just a smooth, beautiful face, and Adam understood why; it would look too skeletal and ruin the smoothness of her face to have a hinged jaw. But Adam considered how, if Muncie planned on covering the whole structure with soft leather, the jaw could be made to open and close and to look more natural without the hinges of the jawbone. "What the hell am I doing? That's not one of the improvements that I want to make. And maybe Muncie has the right idea making a woman who can't talk. But then…he doesn't know what pleasure he could be missing either." Adam grinned to himself.

Adam went through all the levers and buttons and checked the force of Eloise's movements. The thrust of the arms wasn't very powerful and the legs just moved the automaton from one place to the other but only in a straight line; the upper torso could move at the waist but the automaton couldn't be made to change direction—just to go forward or backwards. "Well, Eloise, how would like to be made the most powerful woman on earth with a punch like a mule kicks?" And Adam began to work on raising the compressor's psi, stopping to test the force of Eloise's actions with each adjustment until he was satisfied. Eloise became powerful enough to punch the leather with quite a bit of force, enough force to shatter a man's jaw-or wood.

"Oh, Eloise, you cold, heartless machine" Adam said, "I do love you. You're going to get me out of this alive just as your sister, your flesh and blood sister saved my ass in Chicago." And although the room was hot and smelly and sweat soaked his clothes and dripped from him, Adam finally saw a positive outcome ahead. "And I'm going to kill that bastard, Muncie." And Adam went back to fine-tuning his adjustments.

Eloise told her aunt that she was going to Muncie's shop with him; she wanted to talk to him about Adam and what Adam had said and she wanted to do so alone. And then, Eloise continued, she was returning to The Lunch Box. If she didn't return in an hour, let Sheriff Coffee know where she had gone.

"Do you believe that Adam left with another woman, Eloise?" Aunt Margaret asked.

"No, I don't but I need to find out why Muncie told me that."

"Eloise, Ben Cartwright along with Hoss and Joe are combing every corner of town and the surrounding areas. They came by this morning…I don't know if I should be the one…"

"What?" Eloise's heart began to pound.

"Sheriff Coffee found Adam's horse. It was hitched behind the Palace Hotel. He's been asking around about a woman. Maybe Muncie told Sheriff Coffee the same story. And I'm sure that it's just a story—no truth in it at all."

Eloise paled. "Then maybe, if they found Adam's horse…maybe Adam did run off." Eloise swallowed to hold back the tears. "I have to know. I'd rather he run off than be…gone forever." Eloise couldn't bring herself to voice her worst thought.

"Now, Eloise, don't go blowing off looking for trouble where there may not be any."

Eloise grabbed up her hat that she had removed when she came in the small sitting room and placed it back on her head, pulling up the throat tie. "I'll be at Muncie's shop." And she turned and left to collect Muncie from the restaurant..

"Look at this, Eloise," Muncie said, turning the key underneath a round music box. On the top and man and a woman danced to the music, his arms perpetually holding the woman in the flowing gown as they moved in circles in a figure eight under a bell jar. "Would you like it?" Eloise sat on a small, delicate chair in Muncie's shop. Music boxes sat on the round table beside it. The walls were covered with shelves of mantle clocks and one hundred day clocks, their four pendulums swinging back and forth in arcs. The walls without shelves had wall clocks and two grandfather clocks stood against another wall.

"Thank you, Muncie, but no. I really want to know more about your conversation with Adam, about his leaving me."

"I shouldn't have told you that, Eloise. Adam confided in me and I should have kept it to myself, but when I saw you so upset…I thought for sure that he would leave you a note or tell you. I'm ashamed of him."

Eloise began to shake slightly. Muncie had an odd look as if he wasn't quite there; he seemed to be aware of something else and seemed attuned to it-listening. And sweat broke out of his forehead. "Please, Muncie. I love Adam so. If you've hurt him or anything, please, please let me help. I won't tell anyone, Muncie. I just have to know what's happened to him."

"I told you. Adam said that he was leaving with a woman on yesterday's stage. If he did so or not, I really don't know. After Adam left here, I never saw him again and I told that to the sheriff and Ben and both Hoss and Joe. Don't you think I'm worried as well? I hope nothing's happened to him. I really do. Now, how about a soothing glass of wine. I have a bottle of red wine that I believe you'll enjoy." Muncie poured Eloise a glass of wine and handed it to her.

Eloise stared at the glass in her hand and then took a sip. "It's good. Adam preferred red wine—even with poultry. That was gauche he said. Red wines require the robust flavor of beef." Tears slowly fell down her cheek. "He was always teaching me little things like that and sometimes I would become so annoyed with him, telling him that he was an arrogant and always thought he was so superior. But he would just laugh and then try to win his way back into my good graces—which he always did." Eloise wiped away a tear and realized that she was still wearing her leather riding gloves; the tear had left a spot on the pale leather.

"Yes," Muncie said, "Adam was always the best at everything." He turned to Eloise. "Why don't you sit down and finish your wine and then we'll go look for Ben and the sheriff. Do they know you're in town?"

"I suppose not. But Hop Sing knows that I came with you to town and my aunt knows; I told her that I was coming here, to your shop. Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered." Muncie cleared his throat as he sat down. "Try the wine, Eloise. It's really quite good. It will help you feel better; give you strength."

Eloise smiled slightly. "Adam said that red wine was a tonic for the blood." Eloise took a larger sip. And then she stopped and listened; there was definite knocking from within the shop. Muncie turned his head; it was the sound he had been hearing but louder.

Adam used the largest of the screw drivers that was in the case and began to stab at the leather on the door. If he could just get an opening in the leather, he could tear it away. Adam knew that it would be slow-going but he was determined. He worked assiduously, wiping sweat out of his eyes as bit by bit, he made progress. He would try to rip the leather away but cursed when it wouldn't yield; Muncie had used fine quality leather and packed sheep wool under it. Adam became frustrated and tired and the air was becoming bad, thick with a miasma, and with his back against the door, Adam slid to the floor. The lamplight reflected off the shiny surface of the automaton. "Cold," Adam said to Eloise. "How can you just stand there and have no feelings. You know, she had been cold to me at first but she warmed up to me, came to love me." Adam felt an overwhelming sadness at the thought that he may never see Eloise again. He leaned his head back against the padded door and felt a sob escape. "Oh, Eloise, my only love." He gave a shuddering sob and then drew himself to an upright position. "Snap out of it. You're not finished yet." Adam stood up and looked at the progress he had made on the door and went back working on the spot. Eventually, he had made a hole about the size of a fist and with the pair of pliers, he had pulled away at the sheep wool padding. Finally, the wood of the door stared back at him. "C'mon, Eloise," he said turning to the automaton. "Show me what you can do."

"What's that noise?" Eloise asked.

"That noise?"

"Yes. That knocking." Eloise stood up. She sat back down feeling slightly dizzy. "That noise. That knocking. It's coming from the back. It's getting louder." Supporting herself, Eloise stood up but her stomach was churning and she noticed the floor seemed to be undulating like waves on the ocean.

"Eloise, sit back down and drink your wine." Muncie held onto Eloise's arm; he didn't want her to fall.

"No, I…it's Adam isn't it? You have Adam locked back there. Adam?" Eloise called out and tried to head toward the back but Muncie held her back.

"Eloise, I love you. Adam, he never treated you right. You know that. I'll treat you like a princess, Eloise, like a goddess. I love you so much—have wanted you for so long. You're the most perfect woman." Muncie pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Eloise tried to get away; she had to find the noise but her head began to swim and she felt weak. It became too much of an effort to move and she felt herself lifted up and placed on the couch.

"Don't worry, Eloise. It won't last long. Just long enough for us to run away together. I'll take you to another town and show you how much I love you." Muncie leaned down and kissed Eloise on her mouth, his lips pressing into hers. "Yes, this is what it should be like; flesh and blood instead of cold metal. Here," Muncie said, lifting Eloise's arms and placing them around his neck but they limply fell back.

Eloise heard the knocking turn into pounding, louder and louder. Then she felt Muncie caress her breasts through her blouse, murmuring something to himself about warmth and softness. Eloise wanted to stop Muncie's hands as he ran them up under her split skirt and gently squeezed her thighs but she couldn't protest; she couldn't even speak. Then Eloise heard the splitting of wood and then shattering and a crash. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a metallic figure in the shape of a woman coming slowly but deliberately into the room. And Eloise felt as if she was dreaming for the smooth face of the automaton looked like hers.

Muncie jumped up from where he had been sitting while caressing Eloise and stared as the automaton, the whooshing noise of the compressed air running through its tubes as blood does through a human's veins, came into the room. A few seconds later, Adam stepped into the room behind it and touching a lever, shut the machine off. Muncie stood transfixed, his mouth open; he didn't even notice Adam in the room.

"Don't be jealous of her," Muncie said pleadingly to the machine. "She's merely a woman, not like you, not like you at all. She'll grow old and die eventually, but not you. I left you with Adam for all eternity; we traded, so to speak but I see I was wrong. Do you love me more than you do him, Eloise? Is that why you broke out of the room? You came to find me, didn't you and I was unfaithful. I'm so sorry, Eloise, so sorry." And Muncie slowly walked to the automaton and put his arms around the cold figure and cried, caressing the back of the head.

And Adam walked around the perverse couple and with Eloise staring up into his face, tears falling from the corners of her eyes, he lifted her gently, pulled her to him, and carried her out of the shop. "You'll be all right, Eloise. You'll be fine." And Adam noticed that she was still crying.


	9. Chapter 9

Epilogue

"How did the visit go?' Ben asked. Adam had returned from town and the family had quickly sat down to supper; Hop Sing had been complaining for the last half hour that the roast would dry out if they didn't eat soon but Ben insisted that they wait on Adam. So Hop Sing and Hoss exchanged a look and as Hop Sing went back into the kitchen, Hoss sighed. And finally Adam was home and they could eat.

"More or less as I expected, I guess," Adam said. "Muncie just sits there; he doesn't answer questions—won't even look at you. It's as if he's off somewhere or locked so deep inside his mind that he can't break out." Adam glanced at Eloise. The situation had been difficult for her. Dr. Martin had explained that Eloise would probably suffer some trauma, might very well be averse to matters of intimacy but the inverse was true; Eloise clung to him at night and Adam held her and buried his face in her hair and kissed her gently until she slept safe in his arms. The only thing that upset Adam was how anxious Eloise became whenever he left home alone. She tried to hide it, to appear calm but she would touch him until the last moment and then watch him as he rode away. "Please, there's no need to worry so much," Adam would say, trying to convince her that he would return safely every time.

"You pressin' charges," Hoss asked.

At that, Eloise looked up and met Adam's eyes. "No," Adam said. "I didn't. I don't see the point." Adam noticed that Eloise relaxed a bit then. She had told Adam that she wanted to forget the whole incident and besides, she said, it was obvious to her that Muncie was quite mad. "Muncie's parents are coming to fetch him and take him back to Boston. Roy received a wire and so did I; they answered both of us. They said that they would find a 'suitable' place for him—they're rich enough to afford the best so I imagine that it'll be some place in Switzerland where he can live calmly with his delusions."

"He sure was smart," Joe said. "I guess he's what's called a genius."

" 'There is no great genius without some touch of madness.' " Adam said. "I think a Roman or Greek said it years ago."

"Well, let's not talk of it anymore," Ben said and began talking about how people in St. Louis were clamoring for beef.

That night, Eloise sat in front of the vanity and brushed her hair, preparing to braid it for the night. She stopped in mid-brush and stared at her reflection. Adam was sitting up in bed watching Eloise under the ruse of reading a book.

"Adam" she asked, "do you think it was my fault—all of this? Muncie going mad and…and all the rest?"

Adam closed the book. "Come to me, Eloise." He stretched out his arms and Eloise put down her brush and climbed into their bed and Adam's embrace. "No, none of this is your fault. Muncie fell in love with your beauty and I suppose that sometimes beauty is a curse—beauty can be a terrible and awful thing. But what he didn't fathom, and I think it's because Muncie never really understood a human's inner workings, just those in clockwork toys and such, is that humans can't be controlled with levers and tools; people are unpredictable."

"But he tried to make another me out of metal, to make a machine in my image just as God supposedly made man. I feel that I owe him something for his admiration of me. I think Muncie paid me the highest compliment and showed me the greatest form of love by trying to keep me—so to speak—with him forever."

"Don't think of it anymore, Eloise. Just don't think of it because there is no answer and there's nothing more you can do—you owe him nothing."

"Adam what happened to the other Eloise?"

"She's locked up in the shop—unless she breaks out on her own." Adam smiled, trying to make a joke but Eloise didn't smile. "Well, that's the only thing that Muncie has asked about—his creation."

"It's so sad, Adam. I…" But Eloise stopped and she and Adam sat up; the little clockwork bird on the nightstand, without being wound or touched, began to flap it wings and open and close its beak. "Adam…"

Adam leaned across Eloise and grabbed the bird and threw it against the wall where it broke open and they could see the guts.

"No more cogs and gears," Adam said. "No more. Hell, I may even stop wearing my pocket watch." But that night, Adam dreamed of his Eloise, his flesh and blood Eloise who came to him as a bride to a groom. Her body yielded to him, her flesh soft and warm and Adam groaned in his sleep. But as his dream continued, Eloise suddenly became cold and inflexible; he looked down and she had changed into shiny copper, her face expressionless and cold, her body rigid. Adam woke in a sweat and sat bolt upright in bed, his breathing heavy and harsh. He glanced over at his sleeping wife and pushed up against her warmth, wrapping his arms around her. She murmured a bit in her sleep and then settled into his arms. But Adam couldn't sleep. And he knew that he would be a haunted man for a long time. 

~Finis~


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